Little Eagle
by Dandy in the Aspic
Summary: In the aftermath of Shepard's death, Liara T'Soni's skin turns to sapphire. She'd always been good at keeping secrets. Written for Iron Fic on Tumblr, not beta'ed.


After Shepard died, Liara had a large bruise across her chest for a month. The escape pod had jolted harshly when it landed, the safety strap cutting into her chest. Liara examined the angry mark as she took a shower, probing its blue edges, feeling the pain distantly. It was happening to another Liara, a Liara who had lost hope, lost her future, not her. This couldn't be real. The _Normandy _and Shepard couldn't be lost.

The shower was scorching hot.

The crew was devastated and every time Liara looked at one of their red eyes or rage filled expressions she felt like bursting into tears. Tears were not allowed anymore. She couldn't do this, it was the funeral today.

After she was clean, she dressed carefully in her best red dress. Shepard loved red and Liara knew she looked beautiful and striking in it. She smoothed the clean lines down her body, padding around the apartment she'd rented on the Citadel with her mother's money. It was blood money, red and dirty. Shepard never liked _that_ kind of red.

Garrus was picking her up; he'd offered to drive them both to the service. She was glad he'd be there, she couldn't take it alone. The crew had been very kind to her, asking if she was ok, insisting she drank something. Liara had smiled at them, strained, determined to be strong and brave.

She was the only one of Shepard's squad to not break down yet, it was a vicious sort of pride to hold back all the horrible feelings swirling inside her. She was in control of how the world saw her, a pretty mask to fool them.

Wrex and Garrus had been walking around like bears with a thorn in their paws, snarling at those foolhardy enough to ask about the _Normandy _destruction. Tali couldn't stop crying, Joker was drinking and Kaidan was empty-eyed. Liara held them all together, saying whatever she thought Shepard would have said. It seemed to work but she was just kidding herself. She was a poor imitation, a facsimile of the original. Liara couldn't kill Reapers, or shout down politicians or shoot a gun like she was born to. She was just little Liara who trailed around, hiding behind mother's skirts.

A knock at the door had her jerking out of the fugue she's sunk into, standing so stilly in the middle of the living room. There were dried tears on her cheeks and she ignored the door for the moment to wipe them off.

She would look fine if it killed her.

She crossed the room and opened the door, not bothering to check the security vid. Who cared? She could die right now, or she could die like Shepard, violently and in flames. Death came with no warning, no time to prepare and no chance to say goodbye. She shamefully loathed Kaidan and Joker for getting to see Shepard that one last time.

"Hi, Liara." Garrus stood there, dressed in a turian suit. He looked rather deflated without his armor. Liara wondered if her dress had the same effect on her.

"Garrus, I'm ready. Let's go." She slammed the door shut, leading the way down the corridor to the transport outside in silence. Garrus' mandibles fluttered uncertainly, seeming to not know what to say to her.

Liara felt cold, alone and she didn't particularly care that she was doing nothing to alleviate his discomfort right now. She felt drained, all her work keeping it together this last week starting to strain her along the seams. Shepard always told her she was terrible at reading people. Liara had always agreed embarrassedly but secretly sometimes she knew exactly what they were feeling but didn't know what to say. It was better to plead ignorance and say nothing than open her mouth again and seem the fool. Smooth, precise words had always been hard for her, the comfort of logic, learning and books the only type of expression she knew. Shepard understood that, she had loved reading.

Once Liara had regaled her for hours over some obscure Prothean text, Liara babbled on happily, glad to finally have an eager audience and only later realising that Shepard hadn't a clue what she had been talking about. She'd been happy to just listen to make Liara happy.

Liara had loved her kindness, everything she had done for the crew.

In the transport, she shifted uneasily on the seat, watching the Presidium rush by. It was so cheerful and serene; the world had no right to be bright without Shepard.

It that moment Liara made up her mind. It couldn't end like this. She was Benezia's daughter. She would bend the galaxy to her will. The Reapers were coming and she had lost the woman she'd loved like no other.

Asari were used to loss, used to being left behind.

_'Not this time, it was too soon. Shepard had so much living to do.'_

"You ok, Liara? You're very quiet." Garrus asked, glancing over from the driver's seat.

"Garrus, have you ever been so sure about something? Something that you knew you needed to do?" She said instead, avoiding his question. Her drawn on eyebrows arched finely, not a hint of the turmoil she was feeling on the outside. Her voice was evenly measured. Mother had always said she was too soft, well she'd show them hard now.

"Sure. The differences between right and wrong, criminal scum and knowing you're the only one between them and innocent people. There have been a lot of times when I couldn't just sit by." He waved his talon off the steering wheel, indicating the Presidium. Tiny people scurried below them like ants, oblivious to the threat. So vulnerable.

Garrus mandibles clicked again, his clear blue eyes watching her face carefully. Liara's eyes burned and she wished her face was stone and hard like his.

"I don't know what you're thinking Liara, talk to me?" Garrus' voice was very gentle and she almost gave in. Almost told him about her macabre plans, a grave robber, a thief in the night. She was someone who couldn't let the dead rest. Liara was selfish and she needed Shepard.

The goddess would have despaired at Liara's thoughts. Asari were meant to be patient, accepting; they were supposed to understand the vagaries of life and death better than anyone. Liara had always questioned her professors too much in University on Thessia and she had no patience for philosophy. Archaeology was a hard science. Resurrecting the dead would be the same, the goddess had no place here.

"I think I am going to leave the Citadel after the funeral." Liara calmly met his eyes, her tone was icy. She knew the red of the dress brought out her freckles and she banked on the fact that Garrus would underestimate her; see her girlishness and not the sharp, conniving mind.

"You don't need to go alone, you know. I'm thinking of heading off myself, Shepard's work needs carried out and I could use your brain." He tried dissuading her, concerned.

She was all cool calm and politeness. Plans were already formulated; none he would approve of. "Thank you, Garrus. I have my own plans though."

"...Liara. You're not going to do anything dangerous, are you?"

She smiled innocently showing the whites of her teeth. "No, Garrus. I know how to handle myself. Shepard taught me that much."

He nodded, satisfied and turned back to watch the road, taking control back from the driving VI.

Grief had turned her skin to hardened sapphire. The old Liara was weak but this one was forged in the fires of the downed _Normandy._

Viciously proud of her ability to lie and fool an ex-cop, Liara knew she could make it through the funeral. She would be able to comfort the crew and not be dragged into their grief. Liara had a mission and there would be no failure.

The bruise stung under her seatbelt, but no one else could see it or know it was there. It was a cold comfort but Liara didn't mind.

Little Wing wouldn't be little much longer. She'd make the ones who'd killed Shepard pay, and Shepard would live to smile at her again.

She would be the bird of prey.


End file.
